


The One You Want To Forget

by torakowalski



Series: AU Prompts [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, ways to be really mean to Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 04:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2334740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torakowalski/pseuds/torakowalski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’ve lost a little time,” Phil tells him.  “I need to talk to you about some things.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One You Want To Forget

**Author's Note:**

> [jmathieson-fic](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/) asked for Clint/Coulson 'waking up with amnesia au.'

The pain in Clint’s head gets worse with every step, his whole body screaming at him that he needs to stop, needs to sit down and rest or his brain is going to bleed out of his ears.

He stumbles on, one foot in front of the other, the heat of an explosion he doesn’t remember at his back. His radio crackles in his ear, but if they’re talking, he can’t hear it over the ringing in his ears.

One more step.

One more.

A third step and his knees give out. Strong hands catch him under the arms, helping him control his fall down to the ground. He blinks upward, watching Phil’s face swim in and out of focus.

Something’s wrong about that, he knows it, but then it’s gone.

“Hey,” he mumbles, then everything goes dark.

***

He wakes up with a sick, sharp headache, the rest of his body throbbing with a duller pain from head to toe, and the gross taste in his mouth from having been unconscious for a while.

“Phil?” he asks, but it comes out as a dry puff of air. He swallows, licks his lips and tries again. “Phil.”

“Oh hello, you’re awake,” says a voice that definitely isn’t Phil’s. It’s too young, too female, and too English for that. Clint thinks about opening his eyes, but doesn’t feel up to that.

“Phil?” he asks again.

A warm hand pats his. “I’ll get him for you,” she promises. “How are you feeling?” She doesn’t wait for him to answer, just starts poking at the side of his head, where the pain’s worst.

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna puke on you,” Clint warns.

“Sorry,” she says, still way too cheerful. It’s making his headache worse. “You’ve stopped bleeding, so that’s good. I’ll go and fetch Agent Coulson for you; you gave him quite a scare.”

Despite everything, Clint finds himself smiling. “Mmm, yeah, I do that.”

The door whooshes open then shut again, which Clint is pretty sure tells him something important about where he is, but he’s too foggy to pinpoint exactly what.

He lets himself drift in a haze of pain and whatever meds they’ve given him, until the door opens again, and then he does make the effort to opens his eyes. Phil looks tired, thinner than he should, his shirt rumpled and a scorch mark on his tie.

“Hey,” Clint says and vaguely remembers saying that earlier.

“Hi,” Phil says cautiously. He stays by the door rather than crossing over to the bed, which sucks, Clint doesn’t like that at all.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, trying to reach out a hand but failing. 

Phil doesn’t answer directly. He’s straightening his shirtsleeves, which he only does when he’s very nervous. Clint wishes he knew what was going on or felt well enough to work it out. “I imagine you have questions,” Phil says, eventually.

“Yeah.” Yeah, Clint does have those. Phil nods solemnly, like he’s bracing himself. “Two questions: what blew up? And why do you look like the world’s ending?”

Phil opens his mouth then closes it as though he had an answer ready, but it doesn’t fit with what Clint asked. “A Hydra base blew up,” he says. 

“Ugh, fuck,” Clint mutters. “Those guys popping up again?”

“I, uh.” Phil hesitates again. “Yes, you could say that.” He finally steps away from the door and takes a few cautious steps towards Clint. “What exactly do you remember?”

“About the Hydra base?” Clint asks. “Jack shit.”

Phil stops at the edge of the bed. He stands with his hand just out of reach of Clint’s. “About anything.”

That’s a weird question. Clint’s too concussed for weird questions. “We just got back from New Mexico,” he says. “We were gonna go for Thai. Did the Hydra base blow up before or after we got Thai?”

Phil makes a weird, choked noise, almost a laugh, but totally wrong at the same time. “After,” he says thickly.

Clint smiles. His eyelids feel heavy, but he doesn’t want to sleep yet. “That’s good.”

“Clint?” Phil says softly. 

Clint tries to answer, he really does, but he’s so tired. “Mmm,” he manages.

The bed dips under Phil’s weight and then his hand finally wraps around Clint’s. Phil lets out a harsh breath as their skin presses together. “You’ve lost a little time,” Phil tells him. “I need to talk to you about some things.”

Clint squeezes Phil’s hand as best he can, letting his thumb trace the shape of Phil’s knuckles. He misses Phil, suddenly, in a way that doesn’t make sense when Phil’s right here. 

“Can it wait?” he asks. Whatever Phil wants to talk about sounds serious and Clint doesn’t want that. He’s enjoying just being with Phil.

Phil hesitates, then he squeezes Clint’s hand, hard, like he’s as reluctant to let go as Clint is. “It can wait,” he promises. “Go to sleep.”

Clint cracks his eyes open, just far enough to see Phil’s face. He looks so sad; Clint’s going to fix that when he wakes up. “And you’ll stay?” he asks. 

“I’ll be here,” Phil promises.

**Author's Note:**

> Last one for tonight! I hope 3 ficlets in 24 hours isn't too much spamming? /o\


End file.
